Chapter 18 Chapter eighteen
Elena’s POV
The yacht glided across the glittering water, the wind warm against my face, but I felt nothing, no excitement, no joy. Only heaviness. A weight pressing inside my chest that made breathing feel like lifting stones.
Rafael had his arm draped loosely around my waist at first, giving me soft smiles as if trying to make up for earlier. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to hope he meant it, that this trip could still be ours. Even if she was there. Maybe I should just assume she is Shannon. That we both share everything together. That even if father had taken both of us out, when we were much younger, she always allowed me to have those moments.
But that fragile hope shattered fast.
Because Arabella was everywhere.
She floated around Rafael like a shadow, too close, too clingy, too… calculated. Her eyes kept darting at me with that falsely innocent blink, but the curve of her lips told a different story. She was playing a game. A game I didn’t know the rules to.
Rafael didn’t see it. Or maybe he refused to.
He always did love being the savior. He had saved me one time in the garden, which was the first time we met. Maybe that's the role he is playing right now.
“Elena…” Arabella slurred my name dramatically, swaying as she clutched a champagne flute. “Are you sure this… dress… isn’t too tight? You look like you can’t breathe.”
I froze.
Rafael immediately turned toward her. “Arabella, sweetheart, are you feeling okay? Sit down before you fall.”
Sweetheart.
My stomach twisted. He gave my pet's name to her. That name he had called me and made my heart flutter. I thought it was just for me. Only me.
I forced a faint smile, looking down at myself, what I am wearing isn't tight. “I’m breathing fine, thank you.”
Arabella giggled like she didn’t hear me, then stumbled perfectly into Rafael’s chest.
“Oh my God, Bella!” Rafael caught her by her waist. “You’re drunk already? You should’ve told me you hadn’t eaten.”
She curled against him, whimpering softly as though in pain. “My baby used to say I was… too much trouble. That’s why he left. Maybe he was right…”
Rafael’s jaw clenched, and he held her more protectively. “Don’t say that. He was an idiot. You deserve better.”
She looked up at him with wide, glossy eyes, eyes I knew were too sharp to truly be drunk. She wasn't drunk, and Rafael, why isn't he feeling embarrassed by Arabella's act?
“Do I?” she whispered.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Yes. You do. You know you are too special to be trouble.”
I stood there like a ghost. Like I wasn’t even part of this trip. Like I wasn’t the woman he claimed to love. Like I was the third wheel.
I swallowed hard and turned away, gripping the railing. The ocean stretched endlessly, the sunset painting the sky in soft peach and gold. It should have been beautiful. It should have felt magical.
Instead, my throat burned with something achingly close to tears.
I would have preferred going to boring places with Nikolai than going to thrilling places with Rafael, who didn't care. I tried to focus on the ocean but I can't.
When I turned back, Arabella was on Rafael’s lap, crying about her ex-boyfriend again. Rafael stroked her back as if soothing a child.
The trip had officially become their trip.
Not mine.
Not ours.
Just… theirs.
I sank into a seat across from them, my fingers twisting together in my lap. I felt invisible. I felt stupid. I wanted to call Shannon, but I know it was a bad idea. She never liked Rafael, not that her resentment towards Rafael wasn't justified.
Arabella lifted her head and tilted it dramatically. “Rafael, she is glaring at me.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Elena? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Lie.
Arabella suddenly gagged, her eyes widening. “Oh... God... I think I’m gonna..."
Before I could even move, she lurched forward and vomited all over me.
Warm. Wet. Disgusting.
My breath caught in my throat as the stench hit me. I stumbled up from the seat, heart pounding.
“Arabella!” Rafael exclaimed, holding her upright. “Are you sick? Hey... hey, look at me..."
“I’m so… sorry…” Arabella sobbed theatrically, though she neither touched me nor looked at me. “I didn’t mean to... oh God..."
I glared at her for real, and all I wanted to do was smack her head against a wall; she could die for all I care. Her expression wasn't unreadable. Not a single hint of remorse. A perfect performance. Rafael turned to me. “Elena, don’t just stand there. Come on... have some compassion. She is hurting. Go clean up, okay and come give me a helping hand.
Have compassion.
Because I wasn’t the one drenched in someone else’s vomit? Right.
“I’ll go wash up,” I whispered, before my voice cracked in anger. I didn’t wait for him to answer. I marched off the deck and into the yacht’s small bathroom. I scrubbed at my dress, my skin, my hair, everything. But no amount of washing got rid of the sour scent clinging to me. My eyes stung with tears, but I refused to let them fall.
I wouldn’t break. Not here. Not in front of her. I have nothing else to wear. Nothing but this stinking gown that still reeks of her vomit
When I came back outside, I froze.
Arabella stood pressed up against Rafael, her hand curled into his shirt. Her lips brushed his jawline in a slow, soft kiss more intoxicating than any drunk stumble. And Rafael didn’t push her away. He looked surprised, yes. Confused, maybe. But he didn’t push her away.
This wasn't their first time; this was a make-up act.
“Rafael!” I screamed before I could stop myself. He jerked back instantly, turning to me with wide eyes. “Elena... It’s not what you think. She is drunk.”
“She knows exactly what she is doing!” My voice broke. I pointed at Arabella, who now hid behind Rafael like a frightened child. “She is not drunk! She is manipulating you!”
“Elena,” Rafael said sharply, “stop it. You’re overreacting.”
Overreacting.
I couldn’t breathe.
“She kissed you,” I whispered. “Right in front of me.”
“She is not in control,” he insisted. “You need to be more understanding.”
Understanding.
Right.
It felt like someone was squeezing my ribs, crushing my lungs.
Arabella peeked out from behind him, her expression trembling with fake guilt. “Elena… I didn’t mean to. I just… I’m really hurting. I didn’t want to come. I told Rafael not to bring me. I’m sorry…”
And then, before Rafael turned, she smirked.
A tiny, victorious curve of her lips.
My heart dropped. Every doubt disappeared.
I wasn’t imagining it.
She was doing this on purpose.
A coldness settled inside me, steady and sharp.
“I want to go home,” I said quietly.
Rafael blinked. “What?”
“I want to go home,” I repeated, louder this time. “I’m done with this trip.”
Arabella stiffened, but Rafael shook his head. “Elena, don’t be dramatic. You’re letting jealousy cloud your judgment.”
Jealousy?
I laughed broken, humorless.
“I’m not jealous,” I whispered. “I’m tired.”
Rafael opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t let him.
“Call the helicopter. I’m going home.” And for the first time all day… Neither he nor Arabella said a word. The silence between us was louder than the waves crashing against the yacht. What neither of them knew was that something inside me had finally snapped. And that snap… was only the beginning.
I was done with this, the little space left in my heart for Rafael was gone.